


If Pies Could Talk

by Julibean19



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bottom Jack, Communication Failure, Cuddling & Snuggling, Jack Zimmermann's adventures in baking, M/M, POV Jack Zimmermann, Senor Bun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-24 00:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19/pseuds/Julibean19
Summary: Jack wants to ask Bitty something but he can't find the words.If pies could talk, they'd call him a lovable failboat.





	If Pies Could Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BajillionKittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BajillionKittens/gifts).



> For BajillionKittens who requested: Sleepy Jack cuddles, top!Bitty, Jack’s adventures in baking, also starring Señor Bun, Dex is Mr. Fix-it
> 
> 3k words isn't a lot, but I think I managed to cram all of them in there for you! I hope you enjoy it!

“Bits?” Jack asks, gently pushing unruly blond curls off Eric’s forehead.  “Time to get up.”

A soft, negative noise meets Jack’s ears as Bitty groans and rolls over, showing Jack his back.  

“I know it’s early, bud,” Jack says, lifting his comforter back and sliding into bed behind his boyfriend.  “But it’s not checking practice early… it’s 9 a.m.”

“It’s Saturday,” Bitty protests, pulling Jack’s arm around his waist and shuffling backward into his chest.  “It’s the day of rest. We’re resting.”

“Isn’t the day of rest Sunday?”

“Do not chirp me,” Bitty mumbles, barely turning his head toward Jack, eyes still closed.  “It’s five a.m.”

“It’s _nine_.”

“Do you want to argue or do you want to cuddle?”

Jack smiles, leaning in to press the tip of his nose to Bitty’s hairline and taking a deep breath.  Exhaling, he kisses the side of Eric’s throat, delighting in the happy murmur and wriggle of appreciation it gets him.  “I want to cuddle,” Jack whispers, still smiling.

He set an alarm on his phone anyway.  They have time. Settling back into his pillow, Jack pulls Bitty tight to his body and lets his eyes fall closed.

When his timer goes off forty minutes later, it feels like it’s only been a few seconds.  Jack groans and reaches for his phone, eager to stop the pop music that’s blaring from the speakers.  “Did you change my ringer to Beyoncé?” he asks, opening one bleary eye to silence the alarm.

“It’s Nicki Minaj, you heathen,” Bitty mutters, rolling over to face him.  

“It’s terrible,” Jack insists, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand as Bitty’s fingers slip under the hem of his tee.  “ _Crisse_ , your hands are cold.”

“Feel like warming me up?” Eric asks, apparently much more awake than Jack is.  

“Just come here,” Jack says, sliding one arm under Bitty’s neck and pulling them flush together.  He hooks his chin over Eric’s shoulder and curls around him, rubbing soothing circles against his lower back.

“This is nice,” Bitty says, sighing contentedly, letting himself sink into Jack’s body.  “We should do this every morning.”

“If we did this every morning we’d never make it to Faber.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bitty says, breath hot against the side of Jack’s throat.

“Coach Hall might have something to say about it.”

“Well,” Bitty says, nipping Jack’s skin, “he’s not here right now.”

“That would be awkward.”

“I’m trying to set a mood here, Mister Zimmermann.  Work with me.”

“Oh,” Jack says, feeling his face heat.  He had been enjoying their morning snuggles so much he hadn’t noticed the hardness growing against his hip.  

“Yeah,” Bitty says, breathy and low.  “Oh.”

Before Jack has a chance to respond, Eric is rolling on top of him, straddling his thighs.  He looks up to see the sunlight bouncing off Bitty’s hair, giving him an ethereal glow. The effect is gorgeous and has Jack flicking his eyes to his phone and considering pulling up his camera app.

“I want you,” Eric says simply, biting down on his lower lip.

Smiling, Jack crooks his finger at him until he drops down low enough to kiss.

The moment Eric’s lips meet his, Jack melts, sinking deep into his pillows.  He runs his palms under Bitty’s sleep-worn shirt and splays them across his back possessively, moaning into his mouth.

Eric hasn’t brushed his teeth, but Jack did just before waking him, so it’s easy to ignore in favor of sucking on his tongue.  It’s hot, but slow—a deep kiss that Jack can take his time with. He pulls Eric in even closer and sucks on his bottom lip until Bitty is whining into his mouth.

Eager to find what other desperate sounds he can pull from Bitty, Jack reaches up to cup the back of his head before rolling them over and settling his hips between Eric’s thighs.

“Lord, I love when you do that,” Eric breathes, eyes fluttering shut as Jack slides his hands up his stomach, taking his shirt with them.  

“I love when you wear my clothes to bed,” Jack says, pulling the old Habs tee over Eric’s head.

“If we could turn up the heat once in a blue moon maybe I’d sleep naked.”

“I’ll consider it,” Jack breathes against Bitty’s exposed stomach.  He nudges one of Bitty’s nipples with his nose before wrapping his lips around it.  It might be nice to sleep wrapped around a naked Bitty, but Jack also likes what they have—a warm cocoon of bedding and threadbare pajamas—a twin bed just barely big enough for two.

“Fuck, Jack,” Bitty whines, arching into his mouth.  

Jack switches to the other side and sucks until Bitty’s hands fly up to twine into his hair, not pulling, but tensing every time a shiver runs through his body.  Letting out a satisfied huff of breath, Jack pulls off and follows his hands down to Bitty’s waist, licking and biting a line down his stomach on the way.

“Will you blow me?” Eric asks, trailing his fingers along the curve of Jack’s jaw.  “Your mouth is so hot and wet. God, it feels so good,” he says as Jack nibbles along the waistband of his borrowed flannel bottoms.  

Jack sighs.  

If only he found it just as easy to ask for what he wanted.  It’s not that he dislikes doing this for Bitty—quite the contrary—but there’s something else he’s been dying to try.  He just hasn’t been able to get the words out yet.

Hooking his thumbs into the elastic, Jack pulls Bitty’s pants down, lifting them up and over his erection and then down to mid-thigh.  He leans back for a moment just to look his fill.

Eric’s thighs are trapped together by the elastic, but otherwise he’s exposed, golden skin on display for Jack to admire.  His forearms look pale in comparison, and Jack marvels at the soft hair that sits below Eric’s navel, leading to his cock.

“God, I want you to fuck me,” Bitty sighs, looking down at him with his lower lip caught between his teeth.  

“Later,” Jack says, leaning down to get his lips around the head and lick at the bead of fluid at the tip.  The salt hits Jack’s tongue and he can’t stop the groan that builds in his chest at the taste.

Eric squirms below him, so Jack drapes his forearm across Bitty’s stomach and presses him back into the mattress.  He sinks down lower, taking more of Eric into his mouth before licking back up.

Bitty breathes hard above him, already panting before Jack even really gets started.  They’ve been doing this for a few months now, but every time with Eric feels like the first time—eager and a little sloppy, but also brilliant and intense and all-consuming.

He takes Bitty deep, relaxing around the stretch in his throat when Eric jerks under him, sitting up so abruptly Jack chokes before he has a chance to pull off.  

“Sorry, sorry!  God, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Bitty says, thumb rubbing across Jack’s wet lips.  “It’s just… do you smell something burning?”

“Tabarnak!” Jack curses, dropping his head to Bitty’s bare thigh in defeat.  He groans, high and pained as he shakes his head back and forth. “I’ll go check.”  Pulling away, Jack rises to his feet and slowly marches downstairs, furious with himself.

By the time he reaches the kitchen, Dex is pulling the charred remnants of a pie out of the oven and Bitty is hot on his heels, redressed in his pajamas.

“I’m so sorry Bitty,” Dex sighs, placing the burnt wreck on the stovetop with Bitty’s cherry print oven mitts.  “I thought I’d gotten the temperature to stay even this time, but it must be on the fritz again.”

Jack rubs his fingers over his temples as Dex retrieves his toolbox from the hall and pulls out what he thinks he’ll need.  “I’m really sorry about your pie, Bitty. Once I get it working again I’ll take you to Murder Stop & Shop for some more butter, okay?”

“That—” Bitty stops short, peering over at the blackened crust.  “That wasn’t my pie. The lattice looks nice though. Which one of y’all found my vlog?” he says, voice raised to call through the Haus this time.  “If I find the link on Twitter, I swear to Beyoncé I will end you.”

“It’s not—” Jack hesitates, hand clasped warily over his eyes.  “I made it,” he finishes, voice so low he can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart.

“You… you made this?  Jack, honey,” he says, fingers catching Jack by the wrist and pulling until he stops covering his face.  “Did you make this pie for me?”

Jack nods, unable to find any words to explain further.

“Dex,” Bitty says, fingers now intertwined with Jack’s, “Thank you so much for tryin’, but I don’t think Betsy’s broken.”

“Are you sure?  Because the temperature has been all over the place and—”

“I distracted Jack.  He made that pie for me, but I burnt it.  Betsy’s working just fine. Isn’t that right, sugar?”

Jack nods, looking up just in time to see Dex’s face flush under his freckles.

“We’ll clean this up later,” Bitty says to Dex, reaching out to shut the oven off before pulling Jack by the hand all the way back upstairs to his room.

When they’re finally alone, Jack collapses against the back of the door, his entire body shaking slightly.

“Do you want to tell me what all that was about?” Eric asks him, hands on his hips.

Jack opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.  

“Honey, what’s wrong?”  In just a few steps, Eric is directly in front of him, cupping his cheeks and tilting his face up.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack steels himself.  “I was trying to—”

He can’t do it.  It’s not happening.  This was all a stupid idea and now Bitty’s looking at him, wide brown eyes soft and expectant and Jack can’t say it.  He can’t say anything at all.

“Trying to what, sweetpea?”

A long minute passes before Jack can bear to open his mouth again.  “I wanted to ask—”

“Jack,” Bitty says, breath catching slightly on his name, “please tell me that was not a proposal pie—because as much as I love you, I am nineteen years old.  That would just be too much for us right now.”

“No,” Jack says, clearing his throat.  “No. I wasn’t trying to propose.”

“Jesus Christ on a cracker, you had me worried.”

“Not that I wouldn’t—”

“We will have that conversation later, mister.  Much later,” he says firmly, but with a sweet smile that speaks to their bright future together.  

“Okay,” Jack agrees readily, taking a deep breath.  They really are getting ahead of themselves.

“What’s this all about then?”

Jack sighs, resigning himself to embarrassment.  “You know sometimes words are hard for me.”

Bitty nods, tangling their fingers together again.

“I thought maybe if I made you something… you would… ”

“Be able to read your mind?” Bitty says, with a fond laugh.  “I love that you tried to bake for me, honey, I do. But even the perfect raspberry pie isn’t going to be able to tell me whatever it is you want me to know.”

“It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.”

“It’s not stupid.  It’s actually kind of adorable, but I’d rather you were comfortable enough to just tell me what you’re feeling.  How can I make this easier for you?”

“I don’t think you can,” Jack says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” Bitty says, pulling Jack’s hand again until he stands.  “I have an idea.” He locks his door and flicks the lights off before leading Jack over to his bed and pulling the curtains shut.  

Jack gets in as soon as Eric yanks the covers back and relaxes into the mattress only after Bitty is curled around his back, tucking the duvet around them tight.

“Sometimes the hard things… they’re easier to say in the dark,” Eric tells him, breath hot and comforting against the back of his neck.  “So we’re just going to lie here for a while and if you feel like you’re ready, you can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh or be upset or anything.”

“I don’t—I didn’t think you would laugh.  I’m just nervous,” Jack tells the darkness.  Light still peeks through around the curtains, but he closes his eyes and pretends it’s midnight, that they’re alone in the Haus, that his words will never see the light of day—will never leave this room.

“Here,” Bitty says, reaching behind him and returning with Señor Bun.  He presses the doll into Jack’s hand before pulling the duvet up around their shoulders again.  “He’ll make you brave.”

“Now I feel weird,” Jack says, huffing out a laugh.  “I can’t talk about sex with him looking at me.”

“So this is about sex, huh?” Bitty asks, taking Señor Bun out of Jack’s hands and setting him on the window sill facing away from them.  “What Bun doesn’t see can’t hurt him.”

“He’s seen a lot already,” Jack points out.

“Well, if things are about to get kinky, I’d rather keep him in the dark.  Whatever it is you want, I’m sure we could work something out. So why don’t you just tell me?  I promise to keep an open mind.”

“It’s nothing kinky,” Jack says quietly.  “I don’t think it is, at least.”

“Then what has you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.  It just—Parse didn’t—” Jack can’t finish the thought.

“It’s something you feel like you shouldn’t want?  Because Kent didn’t?”

“I guess?”

“Honey,” Eric breathes, snaking a hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt and resting his palm against Jack’s bare chest.  “Whatever it is. I won’t judge you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I want…” Jack takes a deep breath just as Bitty presses his hand tight against his heart, pushing them together.  The pressure is comforting, grounding. Jack takes strength from it and finally finds his courage. “I want—I need you to make love to me.  I need _you_ to fuck _me_.”

Bitty sucks in a surprised breath and then lets it out slowly, the air ruffling the back of Jack’s hair, making his skin pebble.  He leans in until his lips are just grazing the shell of Jack’s ear and asks, “That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” Jack says, a tingle shooting down his spine.  Heat spreads through his body as Eric hitches his hips even tighter to Jack’s ass, betraying his arousal.  

“All you had to do was ask, sugar,” Eric says, voice pitched low.  “I’d be a fool to not want to make love to you. And I am many things, but I’m no fool.”

“Please,” Jack whimpers, all shame gone.  The tone of Eric’s voice coupled with the insistent press of his erection has Jack hard and leaking already.  When Eric’s teeth come down around the tendon in his throat, he whines, unabashed. It sounds pitiful, but he doesn’t even try to muffle it.  He wants Eric to know how badly he needs this.

It’s a matter of seconds before they’re naked, clothes flung to far corners of the room, duvet lost on the floor.  Jack wouldn’t be surprised if his Habs tee was ripped at the collar considering how forcefully he yanked it off Bitty’s body.

Bitty preps him quickly, the both of them too keyed up to take their time.  As Eric slides a condom over himself, Jack feels an ache deep in his body, a ravenous, empty pain that has him hitching his knees up to his ears.  

Biting down on his lip, Eric slowly pushes into him.  He takes several measured breaths and then begins to move, absolute filth spilling out of his mouth.  In a matter of seconds, Eric is tensing above him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby,” is the last thing Jack hears before Bitty buries himself deep, coming in rhythmic pulses inside him.

It’s over before Jack feels fully satisfied, but that just makes his hunger pangs more pronounced.  He ignores them knowing Bitty will be ready again soon enough—that he always has more stamina the second time around.  Jack is already the first to know what Bitty feels like when he orgasms—the first to hold Eric inside his body. He shouldn’t be greedy, as much as his body begs to differ.

As fingers quickly take the place of Eric’s softening cock, Jack thrusts down hard remembering all the ways Bitty has explored his body—has touched every inch of him.  Eric knows him now… knows everything.

He comes with three fingers spreading him wide and Eric’s name on his lips.  

Neither of them touch his cock.

It’s messy and overwhelming and everything a first time should be.  

Jack can’t wait to do it again.  

“Thank God you burnt that pie,” Bitty says, breathless, as he flops onto his back next to Jack.

“Why?”

“If you came at me with a perfect raspberry pie right now after what we just did I’d think I was still dreaming.”

“Well, we’re out of raspberries now, but I could go to the store…”

“Jack Zimmermann.  What did I do to deserve you?”

“You taught me to make pie in the first place.  It was really all your fault,” Jack says, resting his head on Eric’s chest, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“I can’t believe you’re chirping me right now.  You’re the one that made me a ‘Please Fuck Me Pie!’”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know I was flirting with you that whole class.”

“I thought you were just really concerned about your GPA,” Bitty whines in embarrassment.

“Thank God we got an A,” Jack says, copying Eric’s turn of phrase.  “If we didn’t maybe we wouldn’t be dating right now.”

“You’re saying Betsy brought us together?”

“I’m saying I think we owe Dex a thank you gift.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the organizers of Bitty's Valentines, Georgia and Silvia! It's been great participating the last two years!


End file.
